The Right Thing?
by BrandSpankingNew
Summary: They've got to help that abused kid, so Abby and Tony pull out all the stops. When they do the wrong thing for the right reason, what is Gibbs supposed to do? Warning:BrandSpankingNew fic. Contains spanking and/or talk of spanking. Memories/talk of abuse.
1. Making a Choice

Tony was tired. It made him so _tired_, to watch that kid through the mirror that surveyed the "office" that was actually an interview room, refusing to talk. How old was that kid? Twelve. He was twelve.

It was late Friday afternoon. They'd put a call in to CPS, but they were already closed for the weekend, and Ziva hadn't been able to get ahold of anyone. That investigation would have to wait until Monday. And Tony wasn't sure they had that long, not with the injuries on this kid.

Gibbs had gently cajoled the boy to talk for the last two hours with absolutely no success. And Gibbs could always get kids to talk. But not this one. Except to confirm his name, age, and some other basic facts, he'd kept his lips zipped.

Gibbs entered the room where his agents watched. In the dim light, Tony could see bags forming on his eyes. "He didn't say a damn word," Gibbs muttered. He sounded defeated.

"He is frightened," Ziva said.

"No kidding," Gibbs said. "His father beat him to the point of unconsciousness, and obviously not for the first time. And now he's absolutely convinced that we can't protect him and he'll have to go back to that. And according to his hospital records, it's not an unfounded fear. Wouldn't you be frightened?"

"My father would never strike me," Ziva said in her usual brisk way. "But yes, I see your point."

"And the worst part," Gibbs said, "is that because he won't talk, we can't prove that his father is lying."

"The pictures don't prove it? Injuries like that don't come from skateboard accidents," Tony said darkly. "I don't care if the old man has a _video_ of the supposed 'accident'; that is not how he got hurt." He pressed the bridge of his nose with his index finger and his thumb. A headache was growing stronger with each silent minute.

"The pictures cast more-than-reasonable suspicion. But since there is no caseworker here to investigate, we're out of luck until CPS opens again Monday morning." Gibbs looked sick at the thought.

"Unfortunately, Nathan is right," McGee said, his voice somber. "If he doesn't talk, he fulfills his own prophecy of our inability to protect him. His father's lawyers will be able to get him back."

"And he'll probably beat that kid again. Worse," Tony said. His voice was uncharacteristically dark.

Gibbs' cell phone went off. "Yeah, Gibbs," he answered. His lips pressed into a thin line as he listened to the other end. "Uh huh. Now? You've got to be kidding me!"

It was more than exasperation; it was closer to despair.

"Yes, Director, I am arguing. The point? The point is that we're supposed to protect that kid...The hell there isn't! Something caused those injuries, and it wasn't a damn skateboard accident!"

Gibbs cursed and flipped his phone closed. Tony and the rest of the team stared up at him expectantly.

"Nathan's father is upstairs. He's come to get his son, and apparently, the judge has signed off," Gibbs said.

"We can't hand him over, Boss! That guy gave his kid a concussion!" Tony hissed.

"Not according to the judge," Gibbs said grimly. "Who happens to be Lieutenant Anderson's third cousin. Any guesses on how he got ahold of him this late on a Friday?" The sarcasm was unnecessary.

"You're not really going to send Nathan back?" McGee said, aghast.

"The director told me Judge Johnson is perfectly willing to have us all arrested for contempt if \we don't," Gibbs said. "And while we sit in a jail cell, the father will still have the kid."

"There is nothing we can do for this boy?" Ziva asked.

"I'm not giving up," Gibbs said. "But for now, we've got to send him back with his father."

"Boss!" Tony cried.

"There's nothing I can do, DiNozzo!" Gibbs' voice was harsh.

"You told that kid we could protect him!" Tony said, matching his tone. "You said that he'd be safe with us, that you wouldn't let his father hurt him again! You're gonna let some judge make a liar of you?"

Gibbs turned on his heel and walked out. In seconds, they were watching him through the mirror. "Nathan, this is your last chance. Your father is here. Are you sure that you don't want to tell us how you got hurt?" Gibbs' voice had gentled. "We want to help you, but we can't if you don't give us anything to help you with."

Nathan didn't say anything, but even through the mirror, Tony could see the anguish in his eyes. The boy licked his lips, and Tony felt a flicker of hope in his chest, but when he opened his mouth, all he said was, "I'm fine, sir."

Gibbs' eyes closed for a long second. Then he looked back at the child in front of him with intense eyes.

"Don't give up on us, Nathan. We're not going to let this continue forever."

"Yes, sir," Nathan said, but it was merely an acknowledgement of Gibbs' speech; Tony could tell. There was no hope in his voice. He slowly lifted his coat off the back of the chair and slipped his arms into it. Tony could see the pain that movement caused him and felt his gut twist.

Gibbs sighed. "Come on," he said. He gestured to the door.

As Tony watched the kid walk out, he could see the fear rising up the boy's back, and he made a decision.

There had to be something he could do, and he was going to find it. He jumped up from his haphazard seat and shoved his way out the door. Abby would help him. And she'd do it fast and dirty if she had to.

* * *

"Abby, Gibbs is bringing him to his father as we speak," Tony finished.

The pain in his voice wasn't covered well enough by the raging anger. Abby wrapped her arms around him.

"We'll find a way, Tony. If there's a will, there's a way," she comforted.

"We've got to do it now," Tony said. "If we let that man get that kid home, we might be picking up his body later tonight." Tony's voice was grim.

She looked up at Tony. There was absolutely nothing in his countenance that suggesting he was exaggerating. She released him and took a step backwards, taking a deep breath to center herself.

"It doesn't have to be the greatest solution, Abs. It's just got to buy us more time. And it's gotta be one we can use _now_," Tony said.

"Now," Abby said. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking hard. She could feel Tony watching her. Something was radiating off of him. Not impatience, although that would have been her first thought. No, he was confident in her. And so was she.

It came to her as she'd known it would. "I have an idea," she said.

* * *

He left the evidence locker, patting his pocket to make sure the evidence was still there. He slipped off the rubber gloves and threw them into a nearby garbage can, then grabbed his phone and typed out a quick text to Abby.

[Got it. No more scrambled eggs.]

He hit send. Abby would know now that it was safe to unscramble the security cameras.

He then erased his sent messages.

* * *

Abby got his message. With a quickly typed code, she set the cameras back to right, and then set into motion a file overwriting her computer's IP and other important codes; by the time anyone realized that the cameras had been tampered with, her computer's IP wouldn't resemble the IP of the computer that had made the cameras go all hinky.

That underway, Abby turned back to her phone, and erased her messages.

Then she put some samples into Major Mass Spectrometer and leaned against her desk, waiting for the tell-tale beep. After all, for this to go off, everything needed to be normal. Or as close to normal as things ever got down here.

* * *

Tony burst into the bullpen. Had he moved fast enough?

The kid was standing behind Gibbs, staring at the floor. Gibbs was engaged in a heated conversation with the Lieutenant. Tony walked closer.

"That kid has one more bruise on him when we see him again, you are going to pay, Lieutenant," Gibbs said in a low, cold voice.

"You won't see him again," the man said, pulling on a pair of winter gloves, and Tony felt a cold rush of fear in his gut. He had to do this, or his prediction would be right.

He grabbed a stack of files off Tim's desk, put his head down and took off at a fast clip, aiming for the Lieutenant.

* * *

Gibbs watched Tony barrel into Lieutenant Anderson with unbelieving eyes. That looked like a football tackle! What the hell was DiNozzo doing? "DiNozzo!" he barked as he watched the Lieutenant and his senior field agent both hit the ground, paper file folders fluttering around them.

It was too late though. DiNozzo jumped up quick as a flash. "Sir, I am so sorry! I didn't see you there," DiNozzo said. He sounded shaken, and Gibbs wondered for just a second. Had he really not noticed? No; DiNozzo noticed nearly everything. But he was making a good show. "I am so sorry, sir. " He held out his hand to assist the other man to his feet; Gibbs saw blood. "Really sorry. Please, is there anything I can—"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the Lieutenant spit, pushing himself to his feet. "You've got two eyes, don't you? Damn civilian organization!" He shoved past DiNozzo and into Gibbs' face. "Give me my kid. I'm leaving."

"Wait a second, sir," DiNozzo said. He was using that voice that Gibbs had secretly dubbed the, "Jimmy Palmer". It was an awkward but groveling tone. "This is kind of awkward. I...I didn't mean to run into you, sir, but um...can you empty your pockets? I think something in your pocket cut me, and that makes me nervous. See, I have, um, this blood disease, and well, you wouldn't—I mean—it's contagious, by blood or other bodily fluids—not that you have any other bodily fluids—but I, um—" DiNozzo held up his bleeding hand. It didn't look like much of a cut, and Gibbs wondered. Tony didn't have a blood disease...what was this man up to?

"Idiots!" Lieutenant Anderson hissed, throwing his hands up violently. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw Nathan flinch, and he wished that there was something he could do for him.

"Let me get you some gloves," Ziva said. She grabbed a handful from the box under her desk. With an angry sigh, the man struggled to force the too-small gloves on his hands before reaching into his pockets and yanked a small handful of stuff out, dumping it on Gibbs' desk.

Gibbs' eyes went wide. There was a set of keys, a toothpick, a few coins...and a small baggie filled with white powder. "Ziva," he said curtly.

Immediately, she put on another pair of gloves and turned her attention to bagging and tagging the evidence.

The Lieutenant seemed to see it at the same moment as Gibbs did. Gibbs pulled his handcuffs without thought, and began to recite the Miranda. "Lieutenant Maxwell Anderson, you are under arrest for the possession of an illicit substance. Anything you say--"

"No! This is preposterous! I've never—that man, your agent, he planted it! You can't arrest me!" Lieutenant Anderson was livid. "You'll pay for this! I'll have all of your jobs!"

Gibbs continued to read the Lieutenant his rights, but he turned most of his attention to DiNozzo. "Go get cleaned up, DiNozzo. No use spreading Hepatitis to the entire bullpen." He fixed the younger man with a look that let him know that he was well aware the senior agent had set this up, and that they'd be talking about it.

DiNozzo nodded. "Yes, boss," he said, and he turned and left the bullpen.

Gibbs finished off the rights, and handed the handcuffed Lieutenant off to Ziva. "See that he gets there without undue harm," he told her.

"Undue?" Ziva asked a little too eagerly.

"No injuries, Ziva. Go."

He watched her roughly wrest him out of the bullpen and into the elevator. He took a deep breath and looked over at Tim and the kid; both seemed a bit shell-shocked. "Go get a coffee," he told McGee. "Take Nathan. Get him a soda or whatever."

"Yes sir," Tim said. "I mean, yes, Boss. Plain black?"

"That's how I like it, but this coffee's for you, Tim," Gibbs said. "I've got to talk to DiNozzo."

"Uh, right Boss. Um...we'll be back within fifteen minutes."

"Take a half an hour, at least," Gibbs said. "It's gonna be a long talk.

* * *

In the men's room, Tony pressed a paper towel against his bleeding hand. He'd have to return that scalpel to autopsy before Ducky, or more likely, Palmer, realized it was missing. Although they had a lot of them. He'd just taken the blade out of a box of them, still wrapped in plastic.

But it had gone off exactly as Abby had hoped. She'd be able to lift prints from the keys and transfer them to the baggie, and the Lieutenant would have a mess on his hands. Yeah, he'd probably be able to get it thrown out, or buy it off, but that would take time. And that would be time they could use to protect that poor kid and get him to open up and talk. Pictures were worth a thousand words, and Ducky had taken a plethora of photos of the marks covering his skinny pre-teen body, but if that kid swore it was from a skateboard accident, there wasn't much they could do for him.

The door crashed open, and Tony turned to see Gibbs enter. He looked _pissed_.

"Boss, I—"

"Don't. Empty your pockets, DiNozzo." Gibbs turned the lock on the bathroom door and then faced off with the younger man, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Uh, Boss?" Tony did his best to sound quizzical.

"Did I stutter? Empty 'em." He tapped the counter. "Here. Now."

He knew he should have just flushed the damn thing. "Boss..."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Tony sighed. He pulled the paper towel from his hand. It had stopped bleeding. He dropped the bloody towel into the trash .

"Don't you think you should be more careful about that highly contagious blood disease?" Gibbs asked archly. Tony smirked.

He reached into his pockets, pulling out their contents and dropping it onto the counter. Some spare change, a ball of lint, and his cell phone didn't cover the small, bloody blade.

Tony tried; he really did. But he couldn't read Gibbs' face.

"Huh. How'd that get there? Guess that's how I must have cut myself," Tony said, trying for levity.

Gibbs growled. "Dammit, DiNozzo! What exactly were you thinking?"

Tony dropped the act. "I was thinking that we needed more time, Boss. We couldn't just send him home. We would have been picking up his body tonight, likely as not! What would you have had me do?"

"You risked your whole career over this! It's gonna be obvious that it was a plant, DiNozzo. Your prints will be all over it, and the Lieutenant's won't!" Gibbs was hissing; his voice was quiet but intense.

"No, it won't!" DiNozzo growled back. "I wore gloves. And anyway, Abby can fix it—"

"You want to get Abby involved with this too? That's just throwing another career away!" Gibbs ranted. Then he stopped. "Does Abby know?" he asked, his voice dark.

"No sir," Tony lied automatically. "But she'll do it, if you ask her to."

"You're 'sir'ing me, DiNozzo," Gibbs noted dangerously.

Tony didn't say anything; he was holding his breath.

The door handle jiggled. "What the hell's goin' on in there?" The voice wasn't familiar to Tony.

"Go away!" Gibbs barked. Both men stood listening as the man on the other side of the door grumbled under his breath and his footsteps receded.

Then it was just them again, and Gibbs' expression had Tony's heart drumming against his sternum.

"We're gonna go talk to Abby," he said.

"Boss, I don't think that's necessary—" Tony made a last ditch attempt to keep Abby out of it. She wouldn't have gotten involved if he hadn't pulled her into it.

When Gibbs grabbed his arm, Tony couldn't help but jump. "I think I'll decide what's necessary, DiNozzo," he said in a voice that booked no argument. "Go. Now."

Would he lose his job? Would Abby lose hers? Or something worse? What could be worse than losing the job he loved? Sick with worry, Tony barely noticed that Gibbs marched him down to Abby's lab like a naughty child, never releasing his arm.


	2. Truth and Consequences

"Hi Tony! Hi Gibbs!" Abby said, perky as usual. Her eyes widened when she saw his grip on Tony's arm. "Uh...something wrong?"

He took her upper arm with his other hand and steered her wordlessly into her back office, where he released them both. "Sit," he said, gesturing at the couch.

She watched him lock the door to the lab and flip the switch that turned on the sign over the door, warning of potential chemical exposure. No one would be coming in. Abby gulped and looked over at Tony. His face was colorless.

"He found out?" she whispered. Tony managed a tight nod.

"Deny it," he whispered back.

Deny it? Why would she deny it? They'd saved that kid from being hurt again; what was there to deny?

Gibbs marched back over to them and stood in front of the couch, his arms crossed. Abby had a flash of her father standing in front of her bed in the exact same pose, and it made her pause. They were in _serious_ trouble.

He was glaring at them, and part of Abby knew this was part of the technique, to break the suspect down. So she looked away, studying the tops of her platform boots.

Next to her, she could feel Tony's tension. A quick sideways glance revealed he was staring straight ahead, his expression schooled into the strongest poker face Abby had ever seen.

After nearly five minutes of that, Gibbs said, "Speak."

Neither of them spoke up.

"Are you really going to make me repeat myself, Abby? DiNozzo?" he said. His voice was quiet, but Abby knew better than to think quiet meant calm.

She heard Tony take a deep breath. "It was my fault, boss," he said. "I didn't want to have to go pick up that kid in a body bag later, so I acted."

Abby dared a glance at Gibbs, whose eyebrows had raised ever-so-slightly. "All by yourself?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes," Tony replied succinctly.

"No!" Abby yelped after him. Tony elbowed her, but she kept speaking. "He asked me if I could think of a way of keeping that kid safe so we could find better evidence, and I thought of it. He was just the legs."

"Abby!" It was nearly a moan.

"I'm not letting you take all the blame, Tony!" Abby said. "It wouldn't be right!"

Gibbs nodded. "Admirable of you not to screw over your teammate," he said to them both. Abby's eyes were reproachful and sharp against Gibbs', while Tony was looking away, his face expressionless.

"So," Gibbs continued, "what in the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

"We saved that kid from getting hurt more!" Abby cried.

"And put yourselves in the position of losing your jobs!" Gibbs countered explosively. "You think I can just let that slide?"

"You ought to," Abby said petulantly. Tony pinched her, which she ignored. "We were helping that kid!"

She saw Gibbs take a very deep breath; a sure sign he was trying to reign in his emotions. "Yes, you were," he said in an even tone. "But now I have to decide what to do with you."

He glared down at them. "By the books, I ought to turn you over to the Director and let him decide your punishment, which very likely would include the loss of your jobs, and perhaps even jail time."

Tony went even paler, but Abby just gritted her teeth. "You wouldn't," she said.

"If I don't," Gibbs said, "then I'm going to be pulled into the cover-up. If it was found out, we'd all be doing time."

"But it won't be found out," Abby said with certainty. Gibbs could do anything; she had faith. And it wasn't like she didn't have some formidable talents of her own as far as forensic science went.

"So, then? You think I ought to just let you off without even a slap on the wrist?" Gibbs growled. "Cover up for you and pretend that what you did, risking your jobs here, was acceptable?"

"We did it for the right reasons, Gibbs!" Abby said. "We were protecting that little boy."

Gibbs sighed. "And that," he said, "is the only reason why I'm going to take care of this myself, and not send you to see the Director." He glared at Abby again. "It doesn't mean you two are getting off scot-free. Sometimes if you do the crime, you take the punishment."

"Yes sir," Tony mumbled.

"I won't be sorry that I did it," Abby said defiantly. "It was the right thing." She dared Gibbs to tell her differently with her flashing eyes.

"Still illegal," he said, but his glare softened. "You two will come home with me tonight. By the time work's over, I'll have figured out what the hell I'm going to do with you miscreants."

Abby glared again, but Tony was still staring down at his shoes.

"Now, get back to work," Gibbs snapped. "You've got a lot to do to make this look legit, Abby, and I'm counting on you to do it. And DiNozzo?"

"Yes, boss?" Tony's voice was subdued.

"You've got paperwork to fill out. Go."

"Yes, boss," Tony said. Crisply he stood and left, his shoulders stiff.

"Don't be so hard on him, Gibbs," Abby admonished. "This day was lousy for him too."

"I won't be any harder on him than you," Gibbs said grimly. What the hell was he going to do to punish his wayward team? "Now get moving. I've got a hell of a mess to fix."

* * *

Tony filled in line after line of the official incident paperwork, but his brain was elsewhere.

What was Gibbs going to do to them? It wouldn't be at work...why? If he was going to punish them in a more typical kind of way, he would have sent Tony to work on cold cases or something, and there would have been no talk of going to Gibbs' house. It seemed too easy for Gibbs to bring them to his house to do repairs or other simple household duties. Gibbs wouldn't even think of that as a punishment, likely, because he knew both Tony and Abby enjoyed being at his house with him, even if they weren't really doing anything. So what the hell could be going through his mind?

He couldn't figure out Gibbs' plan. Nothing he could think of made sense.

But his imagination was more than willing to supply frightening childhood memories and absurd scenarios, some possible, some not-so-much, with which to torment him.

* * *

Gibbs sighed, looking up from his massive pile of paperwork and fixing his eyes on DiNozzo.

He could tell Tony was worrying; a crease between his eyebrows made it plain, as did the way he was gnawing on the end of his pen.

What exactly was he going to do about them? The astonishing foolishness of their actions made Gibbs want to smack them both upside the head until they saw stars. But he knew without a doubt that they'd done it with good intentions.

They'd saved that kid, though. The child protection worker had finally been contacted, and had taken him to a temporary foster home, and Gibbs and the rest of the team would be going out to talk to him on Monday, to get him to tell them what really had happened so his father couldn't hurt him again. Gibbs clenched his fists at the thought of a grown man beating a boy like that. Who would hit a little boy? Gibbs could understand how children could test the patience of even the best parent; even Kelly had gotten a few spankings over her childhood for some of her most dangerous or thoughtless stunts, but beating a child was inexcusable. Ducky had thought some of those marks were typical of being struck with an extension cord, like to a television or something like that. What could that kid have possibly done for his father to think he deserved that?

Gibbs shook his head. Even if their methods had been unorthodox, Abby and Tony had been trying to help, and they had. That kid would be better off now, no doubt. But that didn't mean that their methods couldn't get them both, not to mention Gibbs himself, into a boatload of trouble.

How was he gong to convey this to them?

The problem, Gibbs thought, was that they were too close to him. If it had been Ziva and Tim...well, he wouldn't have thrown them to the sharks either, but he would have probably ended up loading them with paperwork and cold cases up to their eyeballs and let that be enough. The thing was, Abby and Tony were not just his teammates. They were closer to him. More like his family. His kids, if he was going to be precise.

It was not a surprise to anyone that he thought of Abby like a daughter. She and Kelly had been born near the same time; if Kelly hadn't died, she'd be about Abby's age. It was instinctual; he'd had a soft spot for the strange goth girl since he first saw her.

And Tony...well, Tony reminded him a lot of himself, and how he'd been when he was Tony's age. Franks had even commented on it. "He's the spitting image of you," he'd said.

"Doesn't look a thing like me," Gibbs had protested.

Franks had smacked him on the back of the head. "I'm not talking about his pretty face, Probie," he'd remarked with a scowl. "The attitude problem, though, that's all you."

And it was true; Gibbs saw more of his younger self in Tony's actions than he'd like to think. If he'd had a son, Gibbs had the nagging feeling he would have been much like Tony, although he knew he would have been a better father than Tony's own had been.

What was he supposed to do with these two? He didn't even know.

With another sigh, Gibbs stood and marched over to his conference room. He hit the down button and stepped inside to the ding. As it began to move downwards, he pulled the emergency stop.

Then he took his phone from his pocket and dialed automatically.

"Yeah?" a gruff voice answered on the other end.

"Franks, it's me," Gibbs said. "I got a question for you."

* * *

Tony heard a cracking noise and felt something cool, liquid, and foul-tasting drip into his mouth. He swore vehemently as he pulled the remains of his ballpoint pen from his mouth. Tim looked up from his typing.

"Tony, your pen broke," he said.

"Ya think, McSherlock?" Tony spit, grabbing a tissue from his desk and blotting at the ink that was running down his chin. "Of all the days..."

"You had better go to the men's room and try to wash that off," Ziva said in her crisp way. "Is it permanent ink?"

"No," Tony said around a handful of tissue. At least, he hoped it wasn't. "If Gibbs asks—"

"Go, Tony," Ziva said. "I will explain."

Tony nodded his head and bolted to the men's bathroom.

It was all over his mouth, staining his lips blue. He wet a paper towel and put soap on it before hesitantly dabbing at the ink stains. He didn't want to get that soap in his mouth; as bad as the ink tasted, Tony knew from experience that soap was worse.

As he scrubbed, the foam built up around his mouth. He sighed at himself. This day had to be over soon.

The door swung open and Tony's eyes darted to the entrance. The door shut hard, and Gibbs just stood there, his eyebrows raised.

"Washing your mouth out, Tony? You drop the 'F' bomb in front of the director?" he asked. Tony wasn't sure if Gibbs was jesting or not, but it hardly mattered. He was angry about the way this day had turned out, with his best intentions going to pot and Gibbs angry at him for trying to help some poor kid and now the damn pen, and he exploded.

"Give me a break!" Tony hissed at him. "Obviously I can't do a damn thing right today, but you could lay off, 'cause I'm doing the best I can, alright?" He was almost yelling at the end of that sentence. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped the blue foam off his face.

Gibbs' eyebrows shot up again. "Did I say you weren't?" he asked, his voice low. The step he took in Tony's direction felt threatening, and Tony fought the urge to back up.

"More or less!" Tony answered, although if he stopped and thought about it, he would know that was an unfair statement. So he left his brain on the back burner and continued to harp. "You know I helped that kid, but you're gonna punish us both for it, and now you're giving me crap over a broken pen!"

"You better calm down, DiNozzo." Gibbs voice became slightly sharper.

Tony cut him off. "No. There will be no calming down, not today. This is a bunch of bull! Now, if you don't mind, _Boss_," he said with sarcastic emphasis, "I'm leaving. Actually, I'm leaving whether you mind or not." He tried to shove his way past Gibbs and out the door.

Gibbs' hand shot out, clamping around his arm. He tried to pull away from the iron grip, but a sharp, stinging smack, not to his head but to his ass, shocked him into stillness. Gibbs took a step closer, so his mouth was practically against Tony's ear.

"Calm down, DiNozzo," Gibbs said again, right into his ear. "You're taking it out on the wrong person." His grip didn't lessen in the slightest. "Breathe." It was a command.

Tony could feel his chest heaving as he fought to calm his breathing, to control the adrenaline hike that Gibbs' unexpectedly aggressive behavior had caused. Gibbs was right. He was out of control. What the hell was going on? They stood like that for almost a full minute.

"Boss," Tony asked finally, and he was glad his voice had regained its regular tone, "did you just...spank me?" He was grateful that he managed to have neither a stutter nor an inopportune voice crack, although both felt perilously close to the surface.

"Hardly," Gibbs said wryly. "I'd call it more of a love tap, DiNozzo. Now get yourself together. Think you can do that?" He was still talking in Tony's ear.

"Yes, sir," Tony replied. Gibbs released his arm.

"You missed a spot." He tapped at the side of Tony's mouth.

"Oh," Tony said; what else could he say? He grabbed another paper towel from the dispenser and scrubbed at it. "Gone?" he asked.

Gibbs nodded. " Workday's over. Go home. I'll see you at my house tonight, 20:00. And you've still got ink on your shirt, DiNozzo."

That was all the encouragement Tony needed. He was out of there.

* * *

He'd sent Ziva and McGee home too, and spent half an hour contemplating Franks' advice.

"_Load 'em up with paperwork, Probie," he' said dismissively. "A month of that'll let 'em know they shouldn't be risking their jobs that way without making 'em think you disapprove of the result of what they did."_

"_I thought of that," he said. _

"_Not enough?" Franks said astutely._

_Gibbs laughed dryly. "Not nearly.." _

"_Well, give 'em a few good whacks," Franks said. _

"_I'll give them both concussions," Gibbs said. "Believe me, I thought about that too."_

_He could practically hear Franks roll his eyes. "So don't whack 'em in the head, Probie. There's a lot of other body parts...Jeez. Are you really gonna make me spell it out for you? Thought they gave you your own team 'cause you'd learned how to think."_

Gibbs knew exactly what Franks was implying. Franks had smacked him in the head a lot, but not always. Once in a while, he'd taken off his 'Boss' hat and put on a more fatherly one. He could still remember the sting of leather against the backs of his thighs and Franks' admonishment, "Pull that kind of crap again, and I'll show you that it's possible to make a marine cry like a baby. Understand me, Gunny?" And Gibbs sure as hell had.

And so he'd let it sit in the back of his mind, percolating. Abby wouldn't protest, or rather, would protest as much as any kid protested, but she wouldn't see it as weird or inappropriate, because they didn't have that kind of relationship. _"The kids don't like it when Mommy and Daddy fight," _she'd once remarked while he and Jenny were tearing into each other, and he knew that she thought of him like a father.

But what about Tony? Tony was a different story; for one thing, he was a male, and for another, he didn't have quite the same comfortable relationship with Gibbs as Abby had. He'd practically beg for Gibbs' approval, and he showed up drunk on Gibbs' doorstep on a fairly regular basis, but cold sober, sometimes Tony couldn't seem to even say something simple and obvious to Gibbs, even if he really, truly needed to.

He thought about DiNozzo in the bathroom, looking wild and nervous, with blue ink all around his mouth and his uncharacteristic loss of temper. It was Franks' suggestion that had led to the smack on the butt rather than the back of the head; it hadn't even been an intentional act. Tony's reaction was...well, Gibbs wasn't precisely sure what it was. Not what he might have thought it would be. Shocked, maybe, but not angry or even upset.

And lastly, he thought of Abby again, her scolding that he'd better not be too hard on Tony, and his own reply, "Won't be any harder on him than on you."

Gotta treat the kids fairly, he thought.

With a sigh, he headed for the elevator, to collect Abby and go home. It was nearing 20:00.


	3. Abby Angst

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so someone told me the last chapter was a little slashy; I am assuming they were talking about the bathroom scene. I didn't mean it to be, so I did a couple of changes, but I do want to remind everyone that we've seen Gibbs get into Tony's space exactly like that before, so I didn't think it was overly slashy. (After all, as far as I have seen, there's no slash on the actual show.) It was not meant to be slashy; more like parental, like when you were a kid in public and your dad would grab your arm and say something in your ear that let you know _exactly_ how much trouble you were in. Again. Feel free to reread it and see if it's any better. I tried._

* * *

Abby sat in the passenger seat and tried not to squirm. It was un-lady-like and undignified, and anyway, she didn't want Gibbs to know that she was nervous.

Of course, he knew that already. She'd been talking a mile a minute from the moment he'd ducked into her lab and told her they were going home until about a half-mile ago, when she'd fallen into silence. And now, she was squirming and picking at her nails.

"Gibbs..." she whined finally.

"What, Abby?" he asked. He didn't sound mad, but he wasn't his usual self either. He almost sounded tired. Abby didn't know what to do with that.

"Can't you just act normally?" she asked after a moment. It was a gutsy thing to say, but Gibbs rarely seemed to mind gutsy. At least, not from her.

"Normally?" Gibbs echoed. There was a pause. "Was today normal, Abby?"

She didn't reply. She didn't have to. He'd gotten his point across.

He pulled into his driveway, and Abby saw Tony's car. "Tony!" she said.

"I told you both to be here," Gibbs reminded her. "You were in on it together."

Tony was sitting on the front stoop, his elbows on his knees. Abby noticed that he'd changed clothes between work and now; he was dressed in a sweater and jeans. When had he left work?

Gibbs turned off the car and stepped out. "Why didn't you let yourself in, DiNozzo? Door's not locked," he said mildly.

"I know, boss," Tony said. He stood and dusted himself off. Expensive clothes, too, Abby noted, seeing the label etched into the leather of Tony's belt. Well, of course. Tony never bought cheap.

She walked up to him, and he held the door for her like a true gentleman. She smiled at him, but he couldn't smile back; all she got was a slight quirk of his lips. He followed her inside.

"Living room," Gibbs intoned from behind them. They went in silence. Abby could hear Gibbs make his way into the kitchen.

She sat down first, her legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded in her lap. Tony sat next to her, just as stiffly. "It's funny that I feel so nervous, since I know we did the right thing. You know? You'd think that having that on your side would help you not be so nervous, but no. It doesn't really." She knew she was babbling, but her mouth always started going faster than her brain when she got nervous.

Tony just nodded curtly, his eyes on his hands, which were tightly clasped between his knees.

"Maybe that's because I get the terrible, awful feeling that Gibbs has something that I definitely wouldn't sign up for on my own planned—"

"That _is_ the point of punishment, Abby," Gibbs said from the entrance to the living room. Abby jumped.

"Right. Of course, Gibbs. I mean, otherwise it wouldn't be punishment, right? And so then what would be the point? Unless you're, you know, into that, but I don't think—uh, sorry Gibbs," Abby shut her mouth tightly when she saw the look on his face.

He stood in front of the couch and stared down at them; it was deja vu. He looked exactly the same as he had in her office today. Abby found she felt much more nervous now than she had then.

Gibbs took a deep breath. "You two..."

Abby could feel Tony's tension next to her. She reached over and grabbed his hand.

"You've got a choice," Gibbs said. His eyes swept over them. "I'm not going to force you. But I've decided on a punishment. A physical punishment."

Abby felt Tony's tension rise; he was practically vibrating. Her eyebrows shot up.

"Physical? As in...it's going to hurt? Physically? " Abby asked.

"Yes." Gibbs didn't add anything more.

"And if we decide no?" Abby asked. Her mind was racing. Tony's fingers tightened around her palm.

"I've got an alternative; it's also a physical punishment. You won't like that either." His face was grim.

"What if neither of them is acceptable?" Abby asked. She couldn't imagine that Gibbs would come up with two separate punishments that she absolutely _could not_ handle, but she wanted to know what would happen if, by some chance, he had.

Gibbs locked eyes with her. "Then you get to explain your actions to the director, and we're all going down."

Abby swallowed hard. Now THAT was an unacceptable punishment. She couldn't do that, not to the people she loved.

* * *

Gibbs looked down at the pair of them, sitting on his couch. Tony's face was blank, while Abby looked nervous enough to spit nails. _Might as well get this done with_, he thought. _No need to drag it out. _He didn't need them to know that he wasn't any happier about this than they were.

"I'm going to spank you," he said quietly. Abby's wide, round eyes got wider and rounder. Tony's eyes widened also before he looked away. Gibbs hadn't missed the anxiety in them. He'd caught their attention now.

"Boss," Tony mumbled, staring at the tops of his knees. "Boss, tell me you're kidding." His voice was flat.

"Do I look like I'm kidding, DiNozzo?" he asked.

He saw Abby lick her lips. "Can I ask what the other punishment is, Gibbs?" she asked.

"Only if you're positive that you can't take this one," he answered. "You don't get to hear them both and then choose the one you like better." Kneeling on rice would be equally if not more painful, he knew, but it wouldn't let them know how personally upset the idea of losing them made him. And anyway, he hated the idea. His father had made him do it a few times during his childhood, but he never would have subjected Kelly to it. His daughter, never emotionally fragile, would have none-the-less been devastated by such a distant and distancing punishment.

"Is it worse?" Abby asked. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Abby," he warned. She was digging.

"Right," she said. "Sorry."

He looked at them.

"Guest room, DiNozzo," he said. "Abby's first. Unless you're going to talk to the director, in which case you can both go home."

He saw Abby gulp. She shook her head. Tony's eyes flicked over to her, and he shook his head. "No, Boss," he said, and squeezed her hand before standing. It took him less than three seconds to be out of the room. Gibbs could hear his footsteps as he made his way to the end of the hall and shut the door. He turned his attention back to the young lady in front of him.

"So, Abby?" he asked.

Abby wasn't looking at him any longer. "Gibbs," she pleaded quietly.

"Yes?"

"Please don't do this." She was almost whining.

"Do you really, truly think you shouldn't be punished, Abby? Truly? If you lost your job at NCIS because of your stunt today, would you be okay with it?"

"It was for the right reason," she whispered.

"It was. But you didn't bother to think things through; doing the wrong thing for the right reason isn't acceptable if you can do the right thing and get the same end result. We probably could have petitioned the judge and gotten the boy back by the end of the workday, and no one would have to be at risk of being fired."

"Probably isn't good enough!" Abby cried.

"If we'd passed those pictures along to child protection, they would have pulled him by now, and you know it," Gibbs said.

"Ziva couldn't get them on the phone!"

"She did eventually," Gibbs said. "It was an unacceptable risk, Abby, and you knew it!" He took a breath. He was very near to yelling at her, and he wasn't going to yell. Not at Abby. "Would you have been okay with losing your job, Abby?"

Her eyes were starting to fill. Wordlessly, she shook her head.

"Neither would I," Gibbs said. "Come on, stand up."

Abby licked her lips again, and then stood. She looked very young, and more than a little nervous. "Gibbs?" she asked.

He cocked his head to the side, waiting.

Her hands began to move. _Are you going to make me _her hands paused _take off my skirt?_ Her face bloomed bright red.

He shook his head. _No,_ he signed back. _This is a punishment, but it's not meant to humiliate you. You're a young lady; too old for that. _He'd never done that to his own daughter either; it seemed more like a way to humiliate, not to teach.

_Young lady? Now I really know I'm in trouble. _She smiled weakly at him. _Thank you for not embarrassing me._

He nodded again. _You're stalling, Abs._

"Caught me," she said quietly, biting on her lower lip. "I don't like being spanked. I mean, unless it's for fun, but this is definitely not fun and really, I'm kind of freaking out." Her voice rose a little. "And by kind of, I mean really. I'm really, really freaking out right now."

He looked at her and she fell silent again. He contemplated the logistics. She was tall; nearly as tall as him. He could sit down and put her across his knee, but that seemed more difficult than was necessary, and anyway, she'd probably get carpet burn on her knees if she squirmed. Instead, he put his foot on the edge of the couch. It was old and worn anyway, his foot wouldn't hurt it any. "Come here."

"Yes, sir." She took a few steps towards him. He lightly took her arm and pulled her closer, showing her where he wanted her. She complied.

He caught the slightest hint of an accent on her words; a souvenir from her Southern childhood, as was the 'sir'. Both of which only came out when she was joking...or very nervous.

"Bend over," he told her, placing his hand on her back. She did so, but he could feel the tension in her muscles. Her long arms stretched out and rested on the couch, supporting some of her weight.

He brought his hand back, and then down hard on her butt. He heard her gasp. He swatted her again, and again. And then he started to speak.

"You do _not_ try to _pull_ off some poorly _thought_ out,_ harebrained_ stunt. You especially do_ not_ try to _pull_ off a _scheme _like _that_ without getting _me_ involved. And you _DO NOT_ risk your _job_ when there are other_ ways _of accomplishing the same _goals_." He emphasized his words with corresponding smacks. "Do you _understand_?" SMACK!

She'd been holding her breath through all those swats; he could tell from the giant gasp she took before letting out a wail. "Oww!" Her hands were grasping onto the couch for dear life.

That was what he'd been waiting for.

SMACK! "Abby, you said that you weren't going to be sorry. And you shouldn't be sorry for wanting to help that kid." She was squirming now, and breathing hard, yelping every time he dropped his hand. He kept up the steady rhythm, ignoring her protests. "But you'd better be sorry that you risked your job today; that you did something unnecessarily foolish."

And then he didn't speak, and just spanked. She was struggling now, her feet digging into the carpet, hands desperately clinging to the couch cushion. Her cries had escalated into something closer to a wail. She threw her hand back. He'd figured it was coming, and caught her wrist.

"P-please! Stop!" Abby wailed. "P-please!" She was twisting, fighting to get away from the pain. But it was the pain in her voice and the shaking of her back that was getting to him more than anything. He squared his shoulders, mentally trying to disregard it. But damn it, there was nothing he liked about making Abby cry. "Ow! Gibbs, please!"

"You risked your job," he said sternly, but he stopped smacking for a moment. "You could have lost it. If Vance found out, you'd be gone."

"Wh-what do you want m-me to say?" Abby whimpered.

"Three guesses, Abby." Was she being dense on purpose?

He heard her let out another breath. "Th—thought you d-d-didn't like apologies," she stuttered.

"Don't be smart," he told her, laying down a particularly hard swat to emphasize. She let out a little yelp and shook her head, pigtails flying.

"Not be-be-being smart!" she protested desperately. "Please!"

"I'm willing to bend that rule today," he said. His hand was starting to smart. He paused for a moment, shaking it. _C'mon, Abs_, he thought. If his hand couldn't take much more, surely her butt felt the same way.

"Well, then, I'm s-s-sorry!" Abby whimpered. "I'm sorry! I d-didn't think about losing my j-j-job; I j-j-just wanted to help!" He heard her begin to sob. That was enough.

He helped her stand on shaky feet, and looked at her. She was crying; mascara was flowing down her cheeks. Her eyes met his. He ran his thumb over her cheek, sweeping away some of the salt and mascara. "You okay?" he asked roughly.

Her mouth dipped further downward, and the tears increased. He fought back something akin to panic. Was she going to lose it on him? "Abby?" he asked.

And then she had her arms around him and her head in his shoulder, and he realized. "Oh," he murmured into her hair. "I see." He held her, letting her squeeze him to the point of shortness of breath. "Shh. It's okay, Abs."

She mumbled something into his shoulder that he didn't catch. "What was that?" he asked.

She moved her head to the side. "I'm not going to lose my job, am I, Gibbs?" she pleaded. "I l-love my job! I love you g-g-guys. Please, I don't want to lose my job."

Gibbs took a deep breath. "If you do, we all will," he said. "But I have faith. Tony and I will do our part, you'll do yours. It'll work out. "

He felt her nod against his shoulder. "It will," she stated.

He kissed her head. "That's my girl," he said softly. He held her for awhile, knowing that she needed it, and if he'd admit it, he needed it too. He'd never found it easy to spank his daughter; it still wasn't.

"Are you still mad at me?" Abby asked quietly.

He sighed. "I wasn't mad, Abby."

"You sure s-spanked like you were," she said sincerely. "Not mad? At all?"

"Some. But mostly scared," he admitted softly. "I don't want to lose you."

"I wouldn't have d-died, _Gibbs_. We still would see each other if I lost my job." She sounded a little exasperated.

"In another situation, acting foolishly and without thinking could be life or death. And even if it isn't, I don't want to have to visit you in prison," he replied. He felt her shrink.

"Oh," she said.

"Yeah. Oh."

He held her for a long time. Finally, she sighed, squeezed him hard and took a step back. "Ugh. S-sorry about your shirt," she said, trying to dust it off. He looked down to see eye makeup and a rather damp, snotty puddle.

"It's not a big deal," he said. "It'll wash."

She swallowed and nodded, wiping at her eyes. "Go, clean up," he said. "I've got to go talk to Tony before he climbs out the window."

Abby snorted. "He might be gone already," she said, with another sniff. "With all that yelling I was doing."

"Go," he repeated, not unkindly. He didn't really think DiNozzo would climb out the window, but the man had done more unlikely things over the course of his career. There was no need to make him sit and stew any longer than was unavoidable.

"Yes sir," she said with a mock salute. He felt the corners of his mouth attempting to lift and forced them downwards.

"Wrong hand, Abs," he said.

"Oh. Whoops." She switched hands, saluted again, and then headed for the bathroom.

He looked down at his shirt again, and sighed. One down...one to go.

He'd change, and then go talk to DiNozzo.


	4. Tony Trouble

Tony sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room with his heart in his throat. He could hear Abby crying, and that had him wanting to go out there and defend her, even though he knew that Gibbs would never, not in a million years, actually cause Abby harm. But it sure sounded like she was being tortured.

He couldn't let her hear _him_ like that. No way. She was like his sister; he wasn't going to wimp out in front of his little sister. Even though Abby probably wouldn't think anything of it, Tony would.

Finally, the crying and yelling stopped, and Tony was torn. On one hand, he was grateful, because that meant that Abby wasn't in pain anymore; on the other, that meant that Gibbs was going to come deal with him.

Tony did not want to be dealt with.

His father had _dealt_ with him on a regular basis when he was a kid. Sometimes the punishments had been creative, at other times not so much, but they had always been painful and they had always left their mark, in his head if not on his skin. He could still remember that Halloween, and the whipping he'd thought would never end, the stain of his blood on his father's belt.

He felt his gorge rise, and he shook his head, pushing the memories back where they belonged. The fear remained.

This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, waiting for his boss to come and whip his ass like a little kid. And even more ridiculously, he was scared. Scared. His heart was beating so fast it hurt.

Abby had taken it. He wasn't going to let Abby put him to shame.

Then again, Gibbs loved Abby. She was his favorite, and everyone knew it. He'd never even smacked her in the head; Tony was one really good slap away from a concussion. He was not Gibbs' favorite. He might even be his least favorite. Tony swallowed.

Maybe it would be better to take his chances with that second punishment. It might not be as embarrassing, and it couldn't possibly be more painful than being whipped. Not too many things Tony had experienced hurt worse than the slice of a belt over bare skin, and the things that did...well, Gibbs wasn't going to shoot him, break any body parts, or stab him. He was confident in that, at least.

There was a knock at the door. Tony jumped to his feet.

"Can I come in?" Gibbs' voice floated in from the other side of the door. Tony was surprised that he asked, but he found his voice.

"Yes, sir," he answered. The door opened noiselessly and Gibbs stepped in. He was dressed in sweatpants and an old NIS tee shirt. Why had he changed his clothes?

Gibbs answered his silent question. "Abby got makeup on my shirt."

"Right," Tony said, swallowing again. Gibbs shut the door behind him. Tony felt his blood pressure spike.

Gibbs turned back and looked at him. Tony had to fight the urge to run, the urge that was pounding through his bloodstream. Stupid. If he was going to run, he'd had plenty of time. But Tony wasn't going to disobey Gibbs. The whole point of hanging around to take the punishment was that he _didn't_ want to lose his job. So instead of running, he dropped his gaze.

He could feel Gibbs standing there, looking at him. After a long stretch of silence, Gibbs cleared his throat. "Well, Tony?" he asked.

Tony was surprised at the quiet tone and the use of his first name. "Boss?" he replied, staring down at his feet..

"Are you ready?"

Tony's chest felt sick. "I'd rather take the second punishment, sir," he replied. He heard his voice shake ever-so-slightly, and his cheeks flushed. Damn it.

He could feel Gibbs' eyes on him, studying him, and suddenly he got the feeling he'd chosen wrong.

"Alright," Gibbs replied finally. "Come with me."

Tony thought his heart was beating as fast as it could, but the rate jumped again. Oh God. What was Gibbs going to do? With heavy feet, Tony followed Gibbs out of the room.

They walked down the hall into the kitchen, and Tony wondered if he was going to hurl. His eyes focused on the stove; would Gibbs burn him? His father had burnt his hand once as a child for playing around with the fire poker, but that seemed too sadistic for his boss. Covertly, he rubbed his thumb against the scar across his palm.

Gibbs crossed the floor and opened a small pantry. He removed a bag of rice and looked at Tony. When their eyes met, memories hit Tony one after the other like photos in a filmstrip.

_His father holding a box of grits. Pouring them on the floor in a tiny linen closet, until there was a thick layer. Forcing Tony to his knees inside that little space. The claustrophobia; he couldn't even change positions because the space was so small. The pain as the grits had dug into his skin. Hours of pain. _Tony felt himself blanch.

Gibbs hesitated, and Tony decided to beg.

"Boss, please," he said, hardly louder than a whisper. "I'm sorry. Please don't do this." He remembered the claustrophobia; rolling over him in waves until he'd turned into a sobbing puddle of snot, and the pain wouldn't end. He couldn't handle it. How the hell was he even going to fit in that little closet? He'd just barely be able to squeeze in there...what if he got stuck? He tried to make himself breathe.

Gibbs was still holding the bag of rice, his eyes focused on Tony's face. Tony couldn't read them.

"Please. Boss, I..." Tony was about three seconds from a panic attack; he could feel it building inside of him. He swallowed hard, fighting the tears that were threatening. "Gibbs..."

Gibbs looked at him. "One or the other," he said, his face unreadable. Tony wished he could hear his boss's thoughts..

A whipping could only last so long but Gibbs could leave him kneeling on rice in a closet forever. "The whipping," he begged. "I'll take the whipping."

Gibbs' eyebrows raised. He turned and put the rice back in the cupboard. Tony took a couple of shallow breaths. "Not a whipping, Tony," Gibbs said. "A spanking."

Tony didn't see the difference there, but he didn't say so. A belt against the back or a belt against the ass; both hurt like hell, and the only difference he could think of was the humiliation factor involved. Not that Gibbs hadn't seen him naked before, with that stupid iguana incident...

Gibbs jerked his head. "Go back to the guest room," he said. "I'll be there in a minute."

Tony didn't immediately move. "Boss..."

"Go," Gibbs said. He didn't sound mad, but that was a command if Tony had ever heard it. He went.

He stood next to the bed and silently debated. Would Gibbs bring in a belt, or would he ask for Tony's? He'd probably bring in his own, but if he didn't, Tony wasn't sure he could handle having Gibbs stand there, waiting for him to take off his belt.

He unbuckled it and pulled it loose of his belt loops, dropping it distastefully on the bed. Then he stood, waiting, clenching his fists so his hands wouldn't tremble.

He was almost ready for the knock on the door.

* * *

The look on Tony's face when Gibbs had dug the rice out of the cabinet had stopped him short.

Pure horror.

He wouldn't have even thought DiNozzo would have heard of the punishment; it was pretty old-fashioned even when Gibbs was growing up. But Tony's face had said he knew exactly why he'd grabbed the rice...and it scared the hell out of him.

Gibbs knew kneeling on rice was a painful punishment; that was why he'd chosen it. But he'd never thought it frightening before.

Looking at Tony's face, he'd known something was deeply wrong. And then Tony had opened his mouth.

The voice that had emerged was not Tony DiNozzo's voice, self-depreciating and humorous in almost all situations. Instead, he'd heard the voice of a victim; he'd sounded like the frightened kids they'd rescued from one crime scene or another over the years.

Watching his senior field agent panic, he'd decided to give Tony a choice, the choice he'd denied Abby.

"_I'll take the whipping."_

Tony's word choice made Gibbs raise his eyebrows. It had also very quickly decided the issue of what to spank Tony with, or more precisely, what not to spank him with.

And so he ducked into the bathroom and gave himself a minute to catch his breath; he also grabbed his wooden hairbrush from the drawer. He could spank Tony with his hand, but he had a feeling that Tony would find that humiliating beyond words. The back of the brush seemed a good compromise between his hand and a belt.

And with that brush in hand, he knocked on the guest room door.

* * *

When Gibbs came in, Tony couldn't bring himself to look at him. He stared down at the carpet beneath his sock-covered feet.

"Tony?"

Gibbs was using his first name again; he didn't do that so often that Tony was used to it. "Yes, Boss?" he answered warily.

But Gibbs didn't say anything; he was looking at him though, Tony could feel those sharp blue eyes on him. Tony still couldn't bring himself to look up. Instead he fumbled for the belt he'd dropped on the bed. "Here," he said, holding it out.

Gibbs didn't take it. "Put your belt back on."

Surprised, Tony glanced up. He saw a hint of...was that pity? Sympathy? Something lurked in his boss's eyes, and then was gone. Gibbs just nodded, and Tony fumbled to put his belt on.

"Told you I wasn't going to whip you," Gibbs said as Tony buckled the belt.

That's when Tony saw the hairbrush Gibbs held in his hand. His eyes widened; that thing looked lethal. "You're gonna spank me with that?" Tony said, almost disbelieving. He couldn't help but feel relief that Gibbs wasn't going to whip him. It made him flush too; it reminded him a little of when he'd been about six and had hidden from Nanny for hours, as a prank. She hadn't been amused; and neither were the police she'd called in her worry. She'd used a wooden spoon, not a hairbrush, but it was the same concept. And Tony had known without a doubt that it was one punishment of his childhood that he'd truly deserved.

But Gibbs nodded, as though that wasn't the strangest thing ever. "Yep," he said.

"You're serious?" The man looked serious, but Tony couldn't help but ask.

"As a heart attack, DiNozzo. We gonna get this over with, or are you going to keep asking questions?" It wasn't quite exasperation, but it was a decent facsimile.

"Right. Um..." Tony wasn't exactly sure what to do with himself; what did Gibbs want him to do? So he stood there with his hands in his pockets. Another important question occurred to him. "Should I take my pants down?" he asked reluctantly. His father had always insisted on it and would punish him more severely if he tried to get out of it. Was Gibbs going to do that too?

Gibbs shook his head. Tony took a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He watched Gibbs look around, and take the chair from the desk. Tony's heart rate, which had eased to a near-normal cadence, jumped again, this time from embarrassment. If Gibbs sat down and expected him to go over his knees like Nanny had, Tony was going out the window and to hell with it. His face and ears got so hot, he expected they were turning purple.

Gibbs swung his foot up so it was planted on the seat of the chair. "C'mere," he said, gesturing with that damn hairbrush. "Get this done with."

It wasn't quite what he'd expected Gibbs to do with that chair, but the idea was similar. Tony took a deep breath. Was this worth making a break for the window?

Gibbs gave him a look. It occurred to Tony that if he went out the window, Gibbs could very well follow him. He didn't _know_ if his boss would paddle him out there on the lawn, but he didn't particularly want to find out either. So he took the few steps towards his boss, and Gibbs transferred the brush to his other hand so his right hand was free to touch Tony's shoulder. It was unexpected; Tony had to fight the urge to jump.

"Relax, DiNozzo. It's a spanking; I'm not going to beat the hell out of you," Gibbs said in his usual gruff way.

"Right," Tony said. Very cautiously, he leaned forward with his hands out, trying desperately to keep space between his stomach and his boss's leg. He heard Gibbs sigh and his hand landed on his back and pushed him down. "Right," he muttered again to himself. God. He _was_ going to die of embarrassment.

And then, without further ado, he heard the _whoosh_ of the brush moving through the air, and he sucked in air. Ow!

Grimly, he drew in a breath. _Swoosh_SMACK! Gibbs did not hit like his Nanny, that was for damn sure! This hurt!

* * *

He spanked as hard as he figured was feasible; the brush was sturdy and he didn't want to actually injure DiNozzo. He could hear Tony's reactions, could feel how tensely he held himself against Gibbs' leg. It hurt plenty as far as Gibbs could tell.

And Tony had a few words coming his way as well. "I know you're no idiot, no matter how much you try to play one," Gibbs said to the man bent over his leg. "Why the hell would you pull that kind of boneheaded stunt like you did today? You're not a probie; I know you know better than that." He laid down an exceptionally hard smack, and a small squeak came from Tony's lips. "You didn't have to tackle that guy like a linebacker, DiNozzo. Those pictures would guarantee he couldn't keep that kid—"

"And what if we hadn't gotten ahold of a caseworker?" Tony gasped out. Gibbs could hear the pain in his voice. "We'd have—ah!" Tony took a breath in an attempt to push away the pain Gibbs was inflicting on his ass. "We'd have picked up his—ugh—body later!"

"It's not an acceptable risk! You want to lose your job?" Gibbs asked, his voice rising. He stopped spanking for a moment so Tony could answer.

"No sir." Tony's voice was tight.

Gibbs resumed. "Then why the hell would you try to pull off such an obvious set-up? It wasn't even close to subtle, Tony!"

"I was—mmpf—trying to help!" Tony gasped. "Didn't have—" he breathed in sharply "—time to be—ah! Subtle!" He could feel the effort the younger man was exerting, trying not to move or fight. It was making his body shake.

"Yeah? You had time to get yourself and Abby fired, and if Vance had his way, investigated, possibly even sent to prison, and no time to be subtle?" He laid the sarcasm down as heavily as he did the swats. "I completely understand."

He spanked in silence for nearly a minute before he heard a choked noise that he recognized as an attempt to keep back a sob. He was getting close. "You think I want to lose the two of you?"

"N-not Abby," Tony allowed. Gibbs rolled his eyes and smacked DiNozzo nearly full force.

"Not either of you, you knucklehead," he said as DiNozzo jerked. He could hear him sobbing now. "Why do you think I extended this offer to both of you?"

"T-to torture us?" DiNozzo managed to stutter out.

"Always gotta be the smart-ass," Gibbs said. He smacked Tony once more and Tony wailed, throwing his hand back. _Enough_. He dropped it on the floor but left his hand on Tony's shuddering back. "Because I didn't want to lose my favorites, DiNozzo."

* * *

Tony took a deep, gasping breath. He'd heard the thump as the brush hit the floor, and knew the spanking was over. Tears were running down his face, despite his attempts to keep them back.

His mind felt a little broken too. His favorites? He'd always known Abby was Gibbs' favorite, but for him to be included in that? It boggled his mind. "B-b-but..."

"C'mon. Stand up" he said, taking his arm and helping him to stand. Tony dropped his head, trying to hide his teary visage from his boss's eyes. To his relief, Gibbs let him. But he placed his hand on Tony's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "You okay?"

Tony sniffed, considered running his sweater sleeve across his running nose, discarded that idea, and nodded. "I m-m-mean, my ass h-h-hurts more than it h-has s-s-since I was p-p-pledging..." His frat brothers had wielded a mean paddle too, but this had been mentally AND physically taxing.

He looked up in time to see Gibbs bob his head. "Good," he said. "Maybe you'll _think_ instead of pulling such a stupid stunt next time." There was absolutely no remorse in his voice. Tony snorted. What had he expected? This _was_ Gibbs. "Right?" Gibbs prodded pointedly, glancing down at the brush on the floor. It didn't take a genius...

Tony nodded. "Yes, s-sir," he said emphatically.

"Enough of that 'sir' crap," Gibbs replied. "I work for a living, remember?"

"R-right, Boss," he said.

"Better." He saw Gibbs' lips quirk up for half a second. "Get yourself together and come out to the living room. I'm sure Abby's still out there, and she's probably picked a movie." He squeezed Tony's shoulder again, turned and left without another word.

Tony stared after him for a second and finally gave in, wiping the tears and snot off his face. After a moment's hesitation, he also rubbed his sore butt. Jeez! He'd known that the boss could _kick_ his ass for a long while now, but this...was different. He hadn't expected that so much pain could be inflicted with a simple grooming instrument!

He kicked at said instrument that was lying on the floor, sniffed again, and headed for the bathroom to wash his face. He'd never be able to brush his hair without thinking about this ever again. Maybe he should invest in a comb...


	5. Epilogue: All's Well on the Homefront

Gibbs made a quick detour into his room to use the phone. When he went back into the kitchen, Abby was leaning at the counter. "You don't have any Caff-Pow," she said conversationally. She looked different; she'd washed her face and the remaining make up had come off. It made her look even younger than she usually did.

"I've got tea," Gibbs said. He opened a cupboard and took down a box of tea bags. "Mint or English Breakfast; Ducky likes it," he said.

Abby smiled. "Thanks," she said. She put a cup of water in the microwave to heat up. Gibbs kissed her cheek and poured himself a cup of coffee. He waited for Abby to point out his hypocrisy, but she didn't say a word. He took a sip and waited for the microwave to beep in comfortable silence.

She dropped a tea bag in the hot water. "Sugar?" she said.

"Gotta have some in there somewhere," he said, gesturing at the pantry.

"Brown sugar tastes the same as regular sugar, doesn't it?" Abby asked, surveying the pantry's contents. "I mean, it's the same thing, basically, just not bleached and whatever. Well, and normal sugar doesn't clump, but—"

"It's sweet, Abs. What else do you want from it?"

She nodded. "Good point, Gibbs." She grabbed a small chunk; it had hardened into lumps. She dropped it into the mug with a soft 'plunk'.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he asked her. "I told DiNozzo you'd probably picked one out already."

Abby looked wary. "Well...I mean, my butt already hurts....I don't know if I want to sit on it."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "The couch is soft, Abby. You'll be fine."

She made a face. "Well, can I bring my tea in there?"

"It's called a living room. Meant to be lived in," Gibbs said as consent. She nodded.

"All right," she said. Gibbs put his hand on the small of her back and gently guided her out of the kitchen and down the hall into the living room. "Wanna pick the movie?"

Abby cocked her head, considering it. "Nah," she said. "Tony can pick. He's the one who loves movies."

Gibbs felt his lips turn up. She was worried about Tony; he could tell. "He's fine, Abs," he said quietly, sitting on the couch. After a moment, she curled up on his left side.

"You're sure?" she asked just as quietly. Gibbs just nodded.

"He's not as tough as he likes to pretend to be," Abby said, as though she was telling Gibbs something he didn't already know. He just put his arm over Abby's shoulder with a nod. She sagged into his side.

They sat together in the semi-darkness, waiting for Tony. Soft footsteps in the hallway warned Gibbs of his approach.

"C'mon, Tony. We're waiting for you to pick a movie," he said lightly.

"Um...I thought I was going to just..." Tony sounded hesitant. He was considering bolting; Gibbs knew it. He also knew he didn't Tony to run off and lick his wounds, because he'd blow this whole thing up into something much bigger than it should be and end up too embarrassed to look Gibbs in the eye come Monday.

"Come on, Tony," Abby pleaded. "Stay. You love movies."

Gibbs could feel Tony weakening. He'd never been able to say no to Abby. "Well..." he said.

Gibbs had anticipated this so he threw in the clincher. "I ordered pizza," he said, twisting to see Tony standing in the doorway.

Tony's mouth opened a little; it was a near-Pavlovian response. "Sausage, pepperoni, extra cheese?" he asked. Gibbs nodded, hiding a smile. "But Boss, I thought we were in trouble."

"You were," Gibbs said. "I thought that was clear. Do I need to go back over that?" He hid the smirk as Tony stood up very straight, shaking his head.

"Uh, no. No. Perfectly clear," Tony said. "But, um...why did you buy us pizza?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Everyone's gotta eat," he said.

"Well, yeah..." Tony said, stepping into the living room. "Movie?"

"You know where they are," Gibbs said. Tony crossed the living room and opened the video cabinet; Gibbs had crafted it when Kelly was born and Shannon had been worried that she'd pull their old dollar-store cabinet down on herself. So he'd made the new one out of sturdy oak; it could stand up through a tornado. Or a two year old. Hell, it even stood up to Tony.

He held up a movie. "Goldfinger!" he said. Gibbs nodded. He liked the old James Bond movies best too.

"That movie is awfully old," Abby said.

Gibbs thought about giving her a look, but Tony took care of it. "It's not _old_, Abby. It's a _classic_. There's a difference. This is James Bond at his finest."

Abby just shrugged, unimpressed.

With a sigh, Tony popped the movie in Gibbs' VCR. "You really ought to get a DVD player, Boss," he said.

"No need. Wouldn't be able to figure out how to use it anyway." Gibbs jerked his head sideways, indicating the couch. "Don't want to have to call McGee every time I want to see a movie. Sit down," he said. Tony looked more than a little uncertain about that.

"It's soft, DiNozzo. Sit."

Tony sat, looking as though Gibbs had asked him to sit on nails. But he settled after a moment. The opening credits came up. He heard Tony let out a little sigh and lean back into the couch.

The doorbell rang. "Got it," Gibbs said, standing. He went and paid the kid who delivered the pizza and soda, including a decent tip, and shut the door. When he came back, they both were raptly watching the screen.

Gibbs handed the Caff-Pow to Abby, and dropped the pizza on the coffee table in front of the couch. DiNozzo grabbed a slice. "You got her Caff-Pow?" he said in an undertone to his boss. "She's going to be bouncing off the walls."

"Decaf-Pow" Gibbs whispered back. "She doesn't know the difference." He saw DiNozzo smirk. "Don't you tell her, either."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Tony replied.

"What are you guys whispering about?" Abby asked. "Give me a slice, would you?"

And so Gibbs passed a slice of pizza to Abby and sat, an arm around Abby, his shoulder touching DiNozzo's, and took a breath. They'd be okay. He wasn't about to lose them, and everything would be alright. And he had a feeling they wouldn't pull something so unthinkingly stupid again.

"Thanks, Boss," Tony said in the dark, only loud enough for Gibbs to hear it.

And Gibbs wasn't sure if Tony was thanking him for the pizza or for something far more complicated, but he decided it didn't matter. He set the pizza on his lap and ruffled DiNozzo's hair lightly.

"Did you just rub pizza grease in my hair?" Tony asked, and he sounded half serious. Gibbs rolled his eyes and took another bite of pizza.

"I wish I'd thought of it. Watch the movie."

"Yes, Boss."

And all was quiet on the home front again.


End file.
